Last night I had many dreams, but one really stands out. First I have to give some background information of why the dream occurred.
Yesterday I was having lunch with a friend. She looked down at her slime-green chopsticks and said, “This is my favorite color! What’s your favorite color?” I said that red and hot pink were my favorite colors but that in high school, purple was my favorite color. Which reminded of a story.
When I was a senior in high school, I was on the tennis team. This was in Texas right smack in the center of the Bible Belt. A friend from my class asked me why I always wore purple. I said, “Because I love purple, it’s my favorite!” He said, “I sure wished I was purple.”
The dream is way shorter than the back story, but be patient.
So earlier in the day this same friend was putting on a wicked cute jacket with faux fur collar. There was a rip where a patch used to be. I was at the mall last night and saw some patches and I was considering buying a patch to give to her as a gift. They were all too ugly though.
So, in my dream I found a slime-green patch in the shape of a star with a hot pink design in the center. I couldn’t believe that I found a patch in the exact same color of the chopsticks. How strange. So I bought the patch to give to my friend to cover the hole on her jacket. Then I thought that I could give it to her the next time we play tennis. That’s it. Told you it was a short dream. I forgot to mention that is was a boring dream. Sorry.
All I want to do is go to Kauai, Hawaii for Christmas and stay here!! Ian and I only have one week off work during Christmas. The rental companies will only book a minimum of two weeks. We could stay one week and pay them for two weeks. What a load of crap! Who's stupid enough to fall for that one? They take your money for two weeks and still put someone in there for the week you paid for but aren't there and take their money. And perhaps they are only there one week too and so on and so on. I guess if you're rich you can do this, but we are poor. We just really really really want to go to paradise for Christmas.
Maybe I should go on Ebay. Or Craigslist. I WILL make this happen. Don't tell *me* no. It only strengthens my resolve.
I received a wonderful email from my Tiny Friends Mom. I wrote about him here. I had to share this because it is so wonderful and funny. Below, with the permission of TF's Mom, I have copied the email in it's entirety. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I've always wanted to say that. I'm so pleased with myself. Anyway here you go…………
*******
Scary story addendum:
The real estate agent who's selling the house we're currently living in called the other day to announce that she and the new buyers and the inspector were coming through the house to do an inspection on Tuesday afternoon at 2:30 p.m. I was kind of bummed because that's when Tiny Friend and his playmate take their naps, and didn't want them disturbed, but there was nothing I could do about it. I knew the inspector would have to be digging deep into the room where Tiny Friend usually sleeps because that's where the attic is, and they always check that. I was worried Tiny Friend might wake up and see all these strangers in the room and get freaked out. He has his routine, so sadly, there wasn't really any other room he could sleep in.
So, in the post-Tracy-scary-dream era, I had to explain to Tiny Friend that some people were going to be coming by while he was sleeping and that they would be wandering through his room. I didn't realize, until mid-conversation, just how bad an idea that was.
TF's Mom: Tiny Friend, when you're taking your nap tomorrow, some people are going to be coming by, and they might be walking through your room. I just wanted to let you know in case you wake up and they surprise you.
Tiny Friend: People are going to be walking through my room? Are they the same people that go to Tracy's room?
TF's Mom: No, they're just going to be doing an inspection of the house.
Tiny Friend: Why are people going to be standing in my room?
TF's Mom: They're not going to be standing in your room, they're just going to check the closet and leave.
Tiny Friend: They can't be the same as Tracy's people because they only come on Wednesdays and Saturdays.
TF's Mom: You're right, and it's Tuesday, so they're just going to do a quick inspection and leave. You don't have to worry about it...
Tiny Friend: Why are people going to be in my room while I'm sleeping?
And it went on like this for 15 minutes until I decided people would *not* be walking through his room while he was sleeping... and in fact, they didn't have to. We got him to take his nap earlier.
And, of course, it was a Tuesday, so they couldn't be all *that* scary!
*******
What a wonderful tale. I laughed till I cried. I hope you did too.
Thirty four years ago today, was the first day of Ians’ life on this earth. He was icky and gooey and just a big mess. Well, he’s cleaned up real good.
Sixteen years ago I met my best friend. Fifteen years ago, we became more than friends (wink). Twelve years ago I married my best friend. He remains my best friend, the funniest person I know, the smartest person I know, and my favorite person in the world.
On this special day, I would just like to wish you a very very happy birthday. I love you more than I or anyone could measure. You rock my world. Happy Happy Birthday, Ian. You are the love of my life.
Last night I dreamt that I was in a huge warehouse. The floor, walls, and ceiling were bright white. The room was wall-to-wall people. Suddenly everyone in the room started to dance. It was an arranged dance. I believe they were square dancing or swing dancing.
I was enjoying watching from the sidelines when I noticed that Ian was out there dancing. In real life Ian does NOT dance. He hates it. But he was the best one in the dream. He came over to me all excited. He explained how he had been secretly taking lessons to surprise me. He grabbed my arm and whisked me off my feet and onto the dance floor. We danced and laughed.
What a funny dream. It could happen. Not bloody likely.
Whoa, what happened to the singers on American Idol? Are they just tired? Is it going to get worse every week?
Last night Nikki was so bad. It was as if she had never sung before. She used to be good, right? Ian said she looked haggard, and I have to agree with him.
Justin gets more and more unbearable every week. What the hell was he doing with that Michael Jackson song last night? The boy can NOT dance. I was embarrassed for him. It was worse than Shania Twains’ legs far apart stance that she does during every song. I like to call it her twat shot. “Hey fans, look at my vagina!” But with Justin, he would move around a bit and then inexplicably plop into a plié in second position. Each time he did it, I gasped in horror. And he couldn’t even come close to singing that song. To quote Simon, “If he wins then they have failed.”
So Kelly and Tamyra are the only ones left with any talent. Ian has predicted that Justin will win. And sadly, he is probably correct. Damn it all to hell!
It’s so fun to criticize people who have more talent in their little finger than I will EVER have. Ah, self-righteous indignation. I love you too also.
No sleep = No blog. posted by The Closet Shopper at 4:30 PM
Monday, August 19, 2002
So, episode one of the Anna-Nicole show was truly magical. The next two have sucked. It is just too hard to watch her berate her lawyer/house maid/best friend and her devoted purple haired assistant. Oldham, You Suck!!!
Ian and I were watching Invader Zim on Nickelodeon Sunday morning. Really wacky and funny and sometimes scary cartoon. It was the commercials that were freaking me out. No wonder there’s a weight problem in this country. The crazy foods that were advertised for our youth boggle the mind.
1. X-treme Jell-O gel-sticks Jell-O in a tube. Wtf???? For faster consumption? Why-O why put Jell-O in a tube?
2. Dannon Sprinkl'ins. In the commercial, it didn’t even say what type of food it was. Whether it was yogurt or ice cream or pudding or what. Just that it was a surprise what would be inside to mix with the yogurt or ice cream or mystery substance inside the little snack cup. It might be sprinkles or a swirly color. Random, I tell you. Random.
I think my real problem with these nasty snack foods is that if I were a kid today my parents wouldn’t have any of these fun foods in our house. Not because they’re health conscious, but because we were poor. Then I would lust after all of my friend’s fun snack foods. So really, I’m just jealous. If you have children, buy them these disgusting snacks so that they don’t have to steal them from the store. Thank you.
Today is the 25th anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. I have a vivid memory of that day.
I was 13 years old. Our family was in Texas visiting my Mothers' parents. My grandparents. I was wearing a short sleeved Rugby shirt with yellow and blue stripes. We were watching TV. A breaking news story flashed on the screen. Elvis Presley died today. My mother fell onto the couch and sobbed.
My Mom was a big Elvis fan. Not the kind that gets tattoos of him and spends every dollar they have on memorabilia. She just silently loved him deeply. Silently until this day, 25 years ago, when she wailed loudly and was inconsolable. On that day my Mother became more than a one-dimensional person to me. She had a deep secret love for Elvis Presley and she was in pain. I watched in horror but also with a new found respect for the woman that until then only cooked and cleaned and took care of us. But now she was a woman of passion and sadness.
Great news! My bestest friend at work, Kris, got another job here on campus. YAY!! Now we don't have to say goodbye. I will still be able to see her. Sadly, for me, not as often. But for her, perhaps, a break from my incessant chatter.
So, Kris and I go to lunch today. Neither one of us were very hungry because we ate many mini baguettes and Swiss cheese during our staff meeting. We settled on Jamba Juice, or as Kris says, "Squishy fruit." I was behind Kris in line and I over heard her telling the girl behind the counter her name. She said, "Dallas, like the city." I was thinking how freakn' cool it was that she gave a fake name and I started to rack my brain for a clever fake name. I only had seconds to think of a name. The pressure was on. Mind you, I didn't break a sweat or let on that I was even thinking about this. Later Kris told me that she was dying with anticipation, hoping that I was going to use a fake name. Praying that I would. So, it was gratifying for Kris and totally intoxicating for me when I blurted out:
Me: Charisma
Kris: Like the city?
Me: Yes, like the city.
Me and Kris: Walk away from the counter. Look at each other with mutual glee and admiration.
The best part was when they called out our drinks, “Orange Smoothie….Dallas?” and “Protein Pizazz………..Charisma?”
Good times. And now, they will never end. Uno, Due, Giovanni.
I did it! I won my first auction on Ebay! Look at my beautiful Betsey Johnson dress!
Do you love it? I am officially addicted. posted by The Closet Shopper at 11:44 AM
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Addendum to yesterdays entry:
I have to tell you more of my fun conversations with our friends' 3 1/2 year-old son. The Tiny Friend that I talked about yesterday.
I saw him a couple of weeks ago when his favorite word to sound smart was "actually." He would put it before almost every sentence. So cute. But also, so smart. He is fascinated with dinosaurs and knows each and every name and all their characteristics. When asked if he was going to grow up to be a dinosaur doctor, he said, "Actually, I'm going to be a paleontologist." See? Wicked smart.
On Saturday his new favorite thing to say to sound smart was, "Do you know what's interesting?" We all took a late night walk through the neighborhood. I was holding my Tiny Friend's hand and we were falling behind the group. He was talking non-stop. I just love listening to him.
TF: Tracy, do you know what's interesting?
Me: What's interesting?
TF: I really like girls.
Me: Who wouldn't? We're made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Just like the Powerpuff Girls.
TF: You know that's not real, right? They're make believe. Just cartoons.
Amazing. Next thing you know we're gonna find out that there isn't a Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus is really your parents.
Saturday night we had two friends and their 3 1/2 year-old son over for dinner. This kid is a genius. He has an advanced brain, I tell ya. Both parents are wicked smart and they feed him knowledge by the spoons full. His new thing is that he loves to hear scary stories. He doesn't become frightened, just intrigued.
After dinner and dessert, we settled into the comfy cushiony chairs and couch in the living room. Our very tiny friend proceeds to go around the room asking a simple question, "(Name of person he's addressing), what scares you?" The stories were pretty scary but he wasn't phased. Then he got to me. "Tracy, what scares *you*?" I start to tell him of my recurring nightmare. I am asleep but it seems like I'm awake. There are people standing around in my room. Sometimes they try to touch me, but mostly they just stand over me and stare. I have to make myself scream to wake up.
Well, he was very curious about these people that hang out in my room. He began to ask many questions:
Tiny Friend: What are these people doing in your room?
Me: They just stand there. It isn't real. When I wake up, no one is there.
TF: Why do they try to touch you?
Me: I don't know.
TF: Where do they try to touch you?
Me: They usually try to touch my arm.
TF: Why are they in your room?
Me: I don't know.
TF's Mom: You see dead people.
Me: I KNOW!
TF: Why are they dead?
Me: Oh my. Next!
TF: Do they come every night?
Ian: They only come on Wednesday and Saturday. (He totally made that up.)
TF: So they are coming tonight. Are you afraid?
Me: (quiver in my voice.) No. Can we talk about someone else now?
Everyone except TF try to change the subject.
TF: Do you want me to stay here tonight and tell them to go away?
TF: When they come, what will they do?
The end result was that I couldn't sleep Saturday night. I was terrified. I'm sure our Tiny Friend slept without a problem. It was really funny at the time. It's just that I got to thinkn' and then my mind scared me. I hate it when my mind scares me and tells me that the evil standing in my room people are going to come and try to touch my arm or just stand there and stare at me.
I watched the Anna Nicole Smith Show on E! for the third time last night. Ian was watching it for the first time, so I enjoyed watching his astonishment and confusion. Much like what I went through watching this train wreck the first time.
She is sooooooo on drugs, right? I mean, she is, right? No one could possibly act like that without many narcotics in their blood stream. She was in a walking stupor the whole time. She can barely move her mouth to speak. And then when she speaks......Good Lord......what the hell is she saying? I'll tell you what. Stuff like, "Who's killing the Jews?" and about the suicide bombers, "Why would they do that, didn't they think it was gonna hurt?"
Her phone conversation with her kid when she asks him what he ordered for dinner is priceless. He says pizza and she says, "Pig snot!" He repeats the word pizza and then she gets it. But she didn't laugh or question that she heard him say Pig Snot. And her kid has to order his dinner? Where is the staff to cook for this kid? And how mortified is he that his mother is this HUGE mentally challenged sexpot?
Look, the bottom line is that I will be watching this till the bitter end. I'm not ashamed of that. This is pure comedy. AND, it makes me feel better about myself. Shallow? Yes. But holy shit, people. This is good television.
On the "Hey, you look like (fill in the blank with any red head on TV)" front. Yesterday I was getting a burrito and the guy behind the counter says, "Hey you look like that chick Nikki from American Idol." Now I'm being compared to the *almost* but not quite and maybe not ever famous? Jeez. I was stunned. And again, I look NOTHING like this girl except that I am white and have red hair. I think I forgot to mention the Julianne Moore comparison. I get that a lot. I personally think she is ugly, so I don't care for this comparison.
To recap:
A. Watch the Anna Nicole Smith Show and laugh your ass off or look away in horror.
2. I look like the not yet or maybe never famous Nikki McKibbin. The chick from American Idol. posted by The Closet Shopper at 11:16 AM
Thursday, August 08, 2002
I'm back. (Say this in the eerie Poltergeist way.)
So, I'm in the main office filling my water bottle and a gentleman walks in and says with a thick german accent, "I am looking for Tracy Miller."
Me: (Happy and energetic.) I'm Tracy Miller.
German guy: I am here to check in with you.
Me: And your name?
German guy: Peter Shneeter. We've been emailing. You helped me with my J-1 Visa.
Me: (Leaning forward as if I didn't hear this.) I'm sorry, what?
German guy: (louder) Peter Shneeter.........
Me: OH, I've been pronouncing it Peter Schnyder. You threw me.
Both of us: Laugh laugh.
I look over at Kris and she looks like she is about to explode with laughter. Later Kris emailed me. This is what it said:
peter schneeter!
BWAH HA HA HA!
I am really going to miss Kris. She makes my days so much happier. DON'T LEAVE!!!! Too desperate? Ok, then just don't forget to write.
I'm still home sick today. This sickness has made me very very tired. So I slept off and on till about 10:30 this morning. I had many little dreams throughout my twelve plus hours of slumber.
I dreamt about ways to account for my time off from work. Will I use sick time of which I have almost none, or will I use vacation time. Using my precious vacation time would suck.
I dreamt that I woke up this morning and walked into the dining room, where the computer is, and the computer was HUGE and glowing. There were all kinds of applications open and I had to close all of them before I could open my email. I was thinking, "Jeez, Ian. When did you get up last night to work on the computer and what the hell were you working on with all these applications open." Then I woke up and went into the dining room and the computer was gone. Then I woke up and I was still in bed and none of these things had happened.
I dreamt that I was playing guitar and singing to a crowd of millions and I wasn't even scared.
I can't remember the other dreams right now. But there were more, I swear.
I think I'll work from home for part of the day so that I don't have to use my vacation time. I'm a genius. And that is real.
Last night I dreamt that I was in a dance class and the teacher was all decked out like John Travolta in Staying Alive. He was yelling at us to run in place like football players during warm-ups. It was so Flashdance. This went on and on all night. Every time I would wake up and go back to sleep this dream would repeat.
It's no wonder that I'm home sick today. That dream wore me out.
Dream: I was working in a Diner as the new manager. A senior waitperson told me that I was responsible for the center row of tables. I was confused that I had to wait tables because I was the manager, after all. I just sat at the counter and flipped through a magazine and proceeded to blow off the customers at the center row of tables. I wasn't even doing it consciously. I would look up and there would be a bunch of people sitting at my tables staring at me. So I would rush around and get their orders and then I would sit at the counter and continue flipping through my magazine. I looked up and my Dad was sitting at a booth with my boss and my Dad lit up a cigarette. We had a brief conversation:
Me: Hey, Dad. Where's Mom?
Dad: (points to one of the tables in the center row.) She's over there waiting for you to wait on her.
Me: Oops. I can't seem to focus today.
Dad: The Lord could help you....
Me: Why are you smoking? What is going on? Why aren't you sitting with Mom?
Dad: I'm sitting here with your boss, Mr. Hoskins.
Me: It's not Hoskins, it's HOPKINS. (I look over at my boss, he's wearing a name tag that says Hoskins) Oh.......my bad. Hoskins.
Dad: I'll smoke if I want to. The Lord spoke to me.
Me: Oh my God, Dad. You're losing it!
I walk over to my Mom and she’s sad and hungry. She said that my Dad is drinking and smoking and she can't get him to stop. I sit down and console her. When I look up there is no one in the Diner. I look around to see my Mom, but she too is gone. No one is there but me.
Reality: Lets see, I used to wait tables. I honestly don't know what else I can relate this to. My Dad is a Baptist preacher. The kind that has the Bible in one hand and his hanky in the other. Waves the Bible, wipes his sweaty bald head. As a child I was mesmerized by him when he was up there preaching to his flock. As a teenager I was just embarrassed. I think that is an appropriate teenage response. Anyway, he would never smoke or drink, is my point. But he would say the Lord this and the Lord that. I would actually like to see him have a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Just for kicks. Then I would want him to repent and lay down the drink and the smoke. Hee hee.
OMG! Check this out. Ian hooked me up. Now I'm linking to friends. So I am no longer a blog snob. (That was for Kristen.) Ian even put a picture of me on the side bar. That's my new hat. Lina will hate it. But I love it. Check out my links. All great reads. posted by The Closet Shopper at 10:57 PM
Friday, August 02, 2002
My first dream took place at my old job. I used to be a finance analyst for the corporate offices of the GAP. You know, khakis and what not? Anyway, in the dream I was being held by gunpoint and being forced to produce spreadsheets with very complicated formulas. Everyone was freaking out, but I was being surprisingly calm. At one point I was having a problem linking spreadsheets and one of the terrorists came over and showed me how to do a V-lookup. The weird part, as if the rest of that wasn’t weird, was when the terrorist was satisfied with my work, she shot me dead. Now, in the dream I was dead but my eyes were open and I could see and hear everything. I just couldn’t move. Because I was dead. The terrorists were arguing with each other. “I told you not to kill her.”, the male terrorist said. The killer said, “It was an accident. Holy shit, she’s dead.” Well, that is all of that dream that I care to remember. Besides, it had to end because I was dead.
I’m not sure if this next dream was just one dream or a stream of dreams. There were a lot of cold hallways. Much like the building I currently work in. My boss had just hired someone to work in our Library. I went to meet him. He opened the door to let me in and………..he was a GIANT. Not like Barry Bonds, but a real freak show GIANT. In fact, he filled the room. He was all hunched over because he couldn’t stand up straight. People were passing by and making fun of him. When anyone did that, I would chase him or her down and give them a whale of a punch and I would say, “SHUT UP.”
Then my boss asked me to come into her office. She started to tell me how she needed me to explain to a Professor that he was being fired and go over his retirement packet with him. She asked me to role-play with her. I was role-playing with her and she was getting angry and throwing things and cursing. I started to take this personal and told her to go fuck herself. She fired me.
The next part of the dream took place in a fancy office and Kris was there with her baby. She was very excited about getting to feed the baby. She was kind of dancing around and chanting, “I get to feed my baby.” She walked up to me and asked me if I had ever danced the cancan. I said, “Of course. In fact I performed that once. Do you want to see…” Before I could finish she flitted off to feed her baby. I said, “But wait……it will only take a second for me to show you…”. Kris ran past with her baby in tow all aglow and said, “Hee hee, I get to feed the baby.”
Phew, I think I remembered all the good stuff. No wonder I’m so tired today. Jeez.
Thursday, August 29, 2002
